Ediva lay on her bed, her back to him. He skidded to a stop. Mayhap he should not have stormed in, but concern wracked him so. He drew back the half-open curtain, expecting her to be asleep.
She turned and looked at him, and his heart went cold, she looked so pale. “You’re still sick!”
“Good day to you, too, sir!” She smiled her welcome weakly. “I’m surprised to see you so soon. I’m not sick, just tired.”
Despite the warmth in the room, she’d wound her hair around her neck as if she felt a chill. The furs were also pulled up.
“I’ll order some warm broth.”
“Nay!” Her hand shot out as he turned. When she relaxed her grip, she smiled ever so slightly. “Stay with me, Adrien.” She hesitated before continuing. “I’ve missed you.”
He smiled. “I’ve only been gone three days.”
“’Tis good to see you home safe. The roads are dangerous.”
Adrien thought back to the young soldier who’d been dispatched with the answer he’d sought. That soldier was still missing and others had been sent to find him.
“How was your visit?” Ediva whispered. “Will the men be returning soon?”
Was that the only reason why she missed him? Disappointment sank into his heart. “Aye, they will. And I learned Eudo’s explanation on the money.” He paused. “But first, Ediva, you need to be cared for.”
The door behind them opened and Ediva’s maid and with one of the scullery girls padded in. Having anticipated their patrons’ needs, two bowls of steaming broth sat on a tray, trailing their savory scent behind them. Despite his concern for Ediva, Adrien inhaled deeply. He’d not eaten all day.
Never mind, he told himself sharply. He had more pressing matters than to fill his belly. He looked back at Ediva. She’d sat up, keeping her throat well wrapped in that glorious hair of hers. But she was still not looking him in the eye. Behind him, the women worked in silence. Ediva needed to convalesce and she’d object to any fussing he’d do. So, with his heart heavy, he stood and bowed to her. “I’ll take my leave, then. We’ll talk when you have healed.”
* * *
Ediva sighed a mix of disappointment and gratitude as she unwound her hot hair. She hadn’t wanted Adrien to leave, and she needed to know what Eudo had said. Yet, she couldn’t have sat in bed with the furs and her thick hair hiding the bruises from her husband’s eyes much longer.
Margaret shooed away the other girl and served the broth. “I have a salve for those welts.” She shook her head. “Milady, I beg of you to tell Lord Adrien what has happened! You won’t confide in me, but consider your husband.”
“Nay!” What had that man said? More people would die should she mention his threat? Who would he choose first? Margaret who fussed over her? As much as Margaret could annoy Ediva with her hovering, there was a mutual caring. All through the brutality she’d endured with Ganute, the woman had done her duty faithfully, helping Ediva as best she could.
No, Ediva couldn’t bear it if Margaret was killed. She was terrified that the man would take those closest to her to sink the dagger of his threat more deeply. Who was this evil cur?
Thankfully, the next day, the welts had faded somewhat and her throat soothed enough for her to speak without hoarseness. She needed to see Adrien, to assure herself that all was well with Eudo. And that Adrien had not been chosen, should her attacker decide to kill her husband himself. ’Twas a foolish fear, because her attacker had said that he could not get close enough to Adrien to do him harm—yet her heart would not rest easy until she saw her husband again.
She found Adrien in his room, one of the keep’s maps spread across his table. He looked up when she entered, and he slowly straightened.
Relief sluiced through her. He was safe. And she found she no longer cared about the missing money.
Today, Adrien’s tunic was a light brown, trimmed with a thin line of embroidery. Her breath caught in her throat. Was this not the one he’d worn when they’d first met, which turned out to be his wedding tunic? She looked down at her own cyrtel. And smiled. ’Twas the one she’d worn that fateful day. How had such a coincidence come about?
He walked around the table and took her hands. “I’m glad to see you up and well.”
“Aye. The herbs and broth did wonders for me.”
“And my wife has come to see me for what reason?” His smile widened, and his eyes shone. “Or was it just to say hello?”
She squeezed his hands back. “You came to see me yesterday. It touched me.” She looked at the table. “Why do you have a map?”
“I need to see what roads there are between us and Colchester. A soldier who should have delivered a letter has disappeared.”
A letter that explained Eudo’s version of the missing money? She didn’t want to know about that right now, for the news of a man missing was more serious.
She released his hands and walked to the table. “This map shows the county’s new roads, made by King Harold when he was still Earl of Wessex.”
Adrien stood close to follow her finger as she traced lines on the heavy parchment. He smelled good, like the forest after a rain. She inhaled deeply.
“How well do you know these roads?”
“Only from what I studied when Ganute left to fight.” She shrugged and pointed to one broken line that stopped in the middle of the forest on its way to Colchester. “I know that this one goes into the king’s forest. ’Tis said it hides thieves and wolves. A dangerous place, even for rebels.”
“I doubt that the soldier Eudo sent would have strayed off the main road,” Adrien said. “Mayhap a band of thieves or a wild animal attacked him.”
Ediva touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll send out some more men to search for him.” He rolled up the map and secured it with a leather thong. Then he walked to the door and called out for Geoffrey and his sergeant. As Adrien handed over the map, he ordered a search for the man. Then to Geoffrey, he wanted refreshments for them.
She thought again of her attacker. He’d demanded that she kill Adrien or others would die. But so far, he hadn’t done anything.
An idle threat? Nay. With Adrien’s sergeant and several men out searching, would this be the time to carry it out?
* * *
A day later, the men returned. Ediva hurried into the hall, anxious for news. Looking up from a map, Adrien shook his head. Fighting her sinking heart, Ediva sank onto one of the benches.
Adrien smacked his palms onto the map. “I fear ’twas not a wild beast that killed the soldier but a man.”
She glanced up at him. “Why do you say that?”
“If a wolf attacked him, the horse would have fought back then returned to either Colchester or here. These horses are fighters themselves. But if several men went against him, there would have been little hope for the man, and the horse would have been kept.” Adrien walked over to her and held out his hand. “Come, pray with me for the man’s safety.”
She hesitated. He tilted his head. “’Tis the right thing to do. God loves all men, Saxons and Normans.”
Those dark, delicious eyes melted her resolve. But she couldn’t... “Nay, Adrien, ’tis not that. ’Tis...”
“’Tis what?”
She bit her lip. “Why should God listen to me? I had thought too many times of Ganute’s death, and...” She stopped, remembering her attacker’s words and hating how they convicted her.
“Go on,” he encouraged softly, his hand still stretched out.
She blinked. “I didn’t have the courage to make a true plan or put it into action. The consequences would have been too high should I have failed.” She studied her feet and found her vision swimming in unshed tears.
Reaching down, Adrien lifted her chin with his finger. “Ediva, look at me.” When she obeyed,
she could see only kindness in his dark eyes. “’Twas not cowardice that stopped you. ’Twas the desire to do right.”
If only she was so valiant as to care for what was right, but she didn’t dare mention the attack two days ago. And what if that soldier had been the first to die because she refused to kill Adrien? How could she call herself brave then?
“Ediva, we’ve all sinned. But Christ loves us all. He died for us. And as your husband, I’m to love you the same way.”
She let out a small gasp. “I don’t want to be a widow again!”
“I would die to protect you, Ediva.”
She swallowed to ease her suddenly dry throat. Was he saying that he loved her? Or was he just being obedient to his faith? She didn’t know and found herself too scared to ask.
Abruptly, he hauled her up and held her. Nay, his statement of laying down his life for her was surely just obedience to his faith. ’Twould be too dangerous to give her heart only for obedience and not for love.
A voice within whispered, Haven’t you already given your heart to him?
Nay! ’Twas just the romance and her silly female heart taking over her good, practical sense. She would not love a man who was so willing to dash off to war and to his king.
He broke the embrace and led her to the chapel. But there, her thoughts scattered, with prayers as loose-limbed as a newborn foal.
Lord, help me sort this out. ’Twas all she could manage. But she felt better for it.
The next day, early, Adrien sought her out to pray again and oddly, she looked forward to the quiet moment with him.
But afterward, when he escorted her to her solar, Ediva knew she was headed for another riding lesson. Her maid held out her split cyrtel.
Adrien had given her simple lessons so far, and she’d almost hoped he’d forgotten this desire for her to learn to ride in light of all that had happened. But ’twas not so.
“If you did not enjoy chapel so much,” she said with a mock frown a short time later in the bailey, “I’d think you planned services in order to lure me out and give me another riding lesson.”
He grinned lazily. “Never. We’re going on the road to Colchester today. Your lessons are going well enough for us to try you outside the bailey.”
She spied Harry leading the gift mare out. “With her? Are you addled?”
He laughed. “Nay, not her. She still needs more training with younger riders. I often put Harry on her to get her used to a smaller lead, which is what he’s doing today, though he’ll go out to the fields. Today, you’ll take another mare.” He looked down at the cyrtel she wore. “I’m glad you put on your new riding outfit.”
Although still nervous, Ediva mounted an old roan mare and followed Adrien out of the bailey. As they left the gate, she threw one longing look back. Holding the gift mare’s reins, Harry stood beside Geoffrey and waved. But being too nervous to release her reins, Ediva offered a hasty nod.
She called to Adrien. “Is this safe? We have already lost one soldier and you may as well be traveling alone for all the help I’ll be.”
“He traveled at night, alone, and was young and unseasoned at defending himself. We are only riding as far as the new road. I want to see it for myself.” His expression was serious. “I will protect you.”
Indeed, Ediva thought, eyeing his long sword. He could unsheathe it in a heartbeat and by its length, it was a formidable weapon. Aye, she felt safe, but still did not trust her equestrian skills.
They plodded along, disgusting Adrien’s stallion, who obviously longed to run. But Adrien kept the beast under tight control.
Summer heat dissolved in the shady forest and Ediva was glad for it. Ahead, she heard Adrien sigh before he turned.
“’Tis a good day for a ride and the forest is cool.”
“What are summers like in Normandy?”
“Much like this, but less green. Our winters are harsher.”
She swatted an insect quickly, lest she lose her grip on the reins. “Wait until autumn. There are no insects, yet the weather is still pleasant.”
“I look forward to it. I hope to be here for the harvest. I want to help. As a soldier, I’ve never done that.”
She refused to think that Adrien would be any place but here. “We have a festival for it.”
But ’twas difficult to think of festivals when they were out on the road alone, and her attacker from the other night was possibly lurking nearby. Someone wanted Adrien dead. Her heart hitched. If she warned him, Adrien would order her to her solar, and search out this attacker. He’d stop at nothing.
But as trained as he was, he was still just a man. He could die from a knife in the back as quickly as the next one.
Nay, she could not bear that.
Adrien pulled to a stop at the new road. ’Twas mucky from some recent rains. Long branches shadowed its narrow length, which bent out of sight a short way up.
A chill rippled through her.
Adrien urged his horse forward.
“Nay, Adrien. Don’t go!”
He stopped and turned his horse around. “I’ll only go up to the first bend. There are big hoof prints here. Apart from me, only Eudo uses coursers that size.”
“The road is too sloppy.”
Adrien’s stallion disagreed, whinnying loudly and stepping sideways impatiently.
He drew his horse around to distract it, then pulled up aside Ediva. He scanned the woodland, studying each rustling leaf. “I’ll only be a moment.”
He trotted the horse up the trail and she watched him, offering a small prayer that he wouldn’t disappear around the bend. He stopped there and tipped his head as if listening for something.
Then he returned to her side. “The road dwindles away, just as the map shows. The hoof prints go into the woods and disappear. There’s no one around.”
“How far is Colchester?” she asked.
“Several leagues. More than thrice the distance we have already traveled.”
“’Tis unlikely the soldier would take that road when he’d come so far.”
Adrien looked along the road he’d just inspected. “Why is this road here?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. We can ask Geoffrey.”
He grimaced, deep in thought. “So we’re back to the beginning in our search.”
“Let’s return, Adrien. I fear my riding skills are dwindling and ’tis as if this road is watching us.”
They began the ride back. Ediva kept glancing over her shoulder at the quiet forest, but thankfully, no one followed them.
Inside the bailey, Harry and Rypan ran up. Ediva waited until Adrien dismounted so he could help her off. Her legs gave way and she slumped toward him, but he held her fast. “I think I’ll take a cool drink of juice in the hall before the noon meal,” she said, leaving Adrien to see to the horses.
Inside the cool hall, she took the mug of black currant juice Geoffrey brought. As she drank, he stood there frowning at her.
“What is it, Geoffrey?”
He hesitated. “There’s talk about a battle brewing in Ely, milady. The soldiers want to fight, and I could see them leave without a tear shed for them, but the villagers fear they’ll be forced to fight for the new king. ’Tis wrong, and they’ll blame Lord Adrien.”
She wet her lips. Aye, some would blame him, for Adrien would do as ordered if he was commanded to muster the men.
Geoffrey wrung his hands. “And some will take matters into their own hands.”
She stilled. “Do you mean they’d start their own rebellion?”
Geoffrey looked stiff as he cleared his throat. “Milady, no good has come having a Norman as lord of this keep. ’Twill cause nothing but trouble should the north meet our new king at Ely.”
Adrien had done so much good here,
ensuring the bailey was organized and the villagers given a venue to voice their converns. But the county was rife with revolutionary talk and discontent. “Go on,” she whispered.
“Those who oppose the king would also want Lord Adrien dead before he could fight. He has a reputation as a powerful soldier. Should he battle at Ely, the English rebels would suffer greatly.”
Worry rippled over her, forcing her body to go from hot to cold in a single breath. Would they have Adrien dead before he was called to Ely? Was that why her attacker had tried to force her to kill Adrien now?
After glancing around at the empty hall, she leaned forward. “Who has started this talk?”
“People defending their land, milady!”
She knew she wouldn’t change the steward’s opinion, so she lifted her brows and announced, “I vowed to protect these people, not some band of curs who know nothing of real care. Do you know who has started this?”
He didn’t answer immediately. “Nay, milady.”
“Then you have work to do. Report to me when you have discovered who’s behind this dissention. There aren’t enough men to make an uprising possible and so aren’t enough men to hide this cur.” She spun away from the table and plowed out of the keep.
’Twas time she warned Adrien. And tell the real reason she’d spent yesterday in bed with her neck covered.
She’d tell him everything.
Chapter Sixteen
Adrien needed to run his stallion. And he knew exactly where to go. After he left Ediva to head into the keep, he took a skin of fresh, tangy cider. Carrying that, he set off to meet the new road.
One question had lingered in his mind from the time he’d spied the new road on the map. Why create a trail that led nowhere? He’d returned home only to take Ediva back, telling her there was nothing so as not to alarm her. But now he meant to find the truth.
Reaching the road, he slowed his horse, forcing his mount to walk only for fear he’d wrench an ankle in the muck.
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